Its Whispered At Night
by xx.just.a.contradiction.xx
Summary: I want Fred back, Oliver… we both – George and I – we need him back… I can't – I can't do this anymore.'  [KBxGW friendship only.]
1. Katie

**I  
Katie**

"_It's amazing how quiet this house is  
when the world's outside  
celebrating their new years  
and their new fears."_

Unnaturally quiet, the empty house creaked and groaned the secret noises of a building when it's been deserted for the afternoon. Amidst the whispers of the wooden furniture and plasterboard walls, sprawled listlessly across her bed, was a pale and haunted-looking Katie Bell, her chestnut waves strewn across the mussed bedcovers.

As she glared up at the white-painted ceiling, her mouth slightly open so that oxygen could pass through her chapped lips, the eyes through which she stared aimlessly upwards minimally reflected the sunlight that streamed in through her open bedroom window. She was squinting slightly, as though the rays of sun were painful to her, but was completely unmoving, quite as though she'd been Stunned, though less rigid.

'Katie dear, we're going to the Weasleys' now, are you quite sure you don't want to come?'

Her grandmother's words still hung in the air, stale and cold and it was all that she could do not to place two of her cold, scratched and bruised hands over her ears to drown out the lingering echo of the words that had tripped a mine of emotions within her.

The Weasleys'? Why would she want to go there, The Burrow, of all places?  
Didn't they know how much it hurt to even _think_ of that place? Did they even _care_ how much pain it had caused her to hear his surname thrown so carelessly into a sentence as if he wasn't even dead?

Because he was dead… Fred was dead… and he was never coming back. And hell, did it hurt to know that.

All of a sudden, she shuddered, an action that would've startled anyone who'd been watching her, so corpse-like had her lack of movement made her seem, and then a single tear escaped from her all-too stubborn right tear duct and slid down her cheek, stopping at her jaw where it hung menacingly off the bone, tickling her skin. Bringing up one hand, she brushed it savagely away and rolled over so that her face was firmly immersed in the bedcovers, unable to make anymore of those damned salty droplets.

She stayed like that for several minutes, breathing shakily into the quilt that many a time he had lain on top of, his long arms encircling her waist in a friendly embrace as she tried to drift off to sleep. She'd always had trouble with falling asleep, and now it was all the more worse because Fred wasn't there to lull her off with his gentle whispers about pranking people and Angelina's expression when he'd accidentally stepped on her guinea pig, and the like.

True, she still had Oliver, who was more than happy to lay down beside his girlfriend until the early hours of the morning as she cried into his shirt, but it wasn't the same… though Oliver was her boyfriend, Fred had been her _best_ friend, and that made all the difference in the world.

_Crack!_

Sighing slightly into her bedcovers, Katie clung tighter to them as a gentle knock at her bedroom door signalled the arrival of none other than Oliver himself, who walked softly into the room and sat down beside her curled up form and ran one calloused hand through her hair and down her back tenderly.

'Kates?' 

She wished he'd stop calling her that… it was, of course, what he'd always called her but so had Fred and it hurt to hear it whispered in a hoarse Scottish accent and not a mischievous English one.

'Kates?' he repeated himself, bending his body over hers so that he could make eye contact with her, 'still in bed, eh?'

She supposed she must've raised an eyebrow at this question because his soft smile faded slightly.

'Oh Katie, it's been two weeks…'

And didn't she know it?

Sitting upright again, he remained motionless for a minute before gently sliding his arms underneath her and pulling her into his lap, whereupon he slid backwards until his back was against the wall and propped her up against his chest.

'Do you… do you want to talk about it?' he asked hesitantly, placing a tender kiss upon her forehead.

'Not really,' she croaked; her voice husky from lack of use.

'Oh, okay,' he replied awkwardly, wrapping his strong arms back around her and gently rocking her back and forth.

They stayed this way for less than a minute until she promptly burst into tears and he stopped his rocking hastily, completely at a loss.

'What? Katie, I - ? What's the matter? Kates?'

Crying hysterically into his chest, she couldn't reply and nor could she breathe for the huge, gasping, heaving sobs that wracked her entire body had rendered her unable to do anything but cry.

And then, just as suddenly as they had come, the sobs stopped abruptly, leaving her gasping for breath but crying no longer.

'Katie?'

Shaking her head, she brushed the tears away impatiently and looked at him through swollen eyes. 'I'm all right, Ol.'

'But... you... what?' he asked weakly, completely bemused.

'Chocolate,' she replied quietly, confusing him all the more, 'I need chocolate.'

'Oh,' he said, gently setting her aside and springing to his feet, 'I'll go and get you some then?'

Smiling in spite of herself, she nodded.

'I'll be right back,' he said, leaning forwards to kiss her nose, 'don't you go anywhere.'

She kept the watery smile on her face until he'd disappeared with an echoing crack, and then the stupid grin slid away to be replaced by an expression of complete and utter misery.

Getting to her feet, she picked up her wand and waved it over herself, replacing her somewhat grubby pyjamas with track pants, a t-shirt and a good pair of joggers. Tying her long hair up into a hasty ponytail, she tucked her wand underneath the strap of her sports bra and left the room, jogging down the stairs and through the house to the front door.

Casting a guilty look back up the stairs to where she knew Oliver would return momentarily and panic when she wasn't there, she walked out the door and took off at a run, heading for the track that led down to the lake.

It felt so good to be running, pounding all her anger and frustration out into the packed earth track, that she instantly felt a little lighter inside and if she closed her eyes for a minute, it was almost as if Fred was running beside her, like he'd used to every holidays as they went for their early morning runs.

Fred.

Oh God, how it hurt to think about him… how it hurt to think about anything at all really, because most things in life had come back to him at some stage. Even Oliver was tied to memories of Fred – memories of him and George playing pranks on the irate Scotsman or her and Oliver's first date, a date that would never have happened had it not been for Fred, who had noticed the chemistry the two friends had and instantly put all his efforts into getting them together.

She could also remember vividly, the Last Battle… that, of course, tied inexplicably back to Fred, as most of her memories of that horrific night involved her screaming at his lifeless, still-grinning body as it lay limp on the stone floor of the castle, those blue eyes that had always known when she needed him, dulled now and staring glassily upwards, never to be lit up again.

She could hear George swearing and screaming, kicking the suit of armour beside him until he'd managed to break most of his toes and had had to be restrained… she could hear Angelina crying hysterically in the arms of Alicia and Leanne… could hear Oliver whispering that everything was going to be all right, that at least he had died laughing, as he'd have wanted to go… Mrs. Weasley's hysterical, brutal duel with Bellatrix Lestrange… Ginny whimpering, unable to believe her favourite brother was gone… her own screaming –

Tripping on a tree root that lay haphazardly across the path, she flew forwards and landed sprawled in the dirt, screaming horrifically for no reason other than to drown out the other noises in her head until all of a sudden, with a loud crack, a tall and lanky red-headed boy of nineteen was kneeling down beside her, gently rolling her over and dusting off her face and her screaming dimmed into nothing, shock overtaking all senses.

'Fred?'

The redheaded figure flinched and overbalanced, flopping back into the dirt with a horrified expression, his face contorted unimaginably with fury and agony, looking all the more disfigured from the lack of an ear –

Gasping, Katie sat up, one dusty hand clapped over her mouth as she watched on in horror as George fought with himself, seemingly trying not to explode from suppressed emotion.

They remained like that, Katie sitting a few metres away, unable to say anything she was so appalled with herself and George half-sitting, half-lying in the dirt, struggling inwardly, until he managed to force back down whatever it was that was fighting to get out and he got awkwardly to his feet, extending a hand roughly for her to take.

'I came to find you, Oliver's beside himself,' he said in a low whisper, still gripping her hand tightly, 'I knew you'd be out here – Fr- _he_ used to come running with you all the time.'

'George?' she said quietly, reaching out with her unoccupied hand and stroking his face gently, tearing coursing down her cheeks, 'I'm so sorry, I –'

'You didn't notice my lack of ear and thought I was him,' he interrupted shortly, drawing his wand, 'you're not the only one who's been doing it, lets go.'

Nodding but keeping her silence, Katie clung to him as he performed a Side-Along Apparition.

They appeared with an almighty crack in a dark, messy bedroom that she immediately recognised as the room Fred and George had shared before they'd moved into their Diagon Alley residence. A pang shot through her but she suppressed it, instead gripping George's hand tighter and looking around the room, drinking in every detail and breathing in every smell of gunpowder and fire and whatever else they'd been using in their last experiment.

'I didn't think you'd want to appear amidst a crowd of people,' George said dully, walking over to the door and opening it for her, 'you'd better go and find Oliver.'

'I- thanks George,' she said quietly, bestowing a quick hug upon him and walking out, turning around at the last minute, 'can I come back… later on?'

'If you want,' he replied listlessly, flopping down onto the nearest bed and kicking off his shoes.

She flashed him a small, friendly smile before closing the door and walking down the hallway, at the end of which, she met Oliver, who launched himself at her immediately, practically crushing her.

'Where the _hell_ did you go?'

'To find closure,' she replied quietly, breathing in his scent properly for the first time in over two weeks and basking in it.

'Did you find it?' he whispered back.

'No,' she answered softly, 'I want Fred back, Oliver… we both – George and I – we need him back… I can't – I can't do this anymore.'

* * *


	2. George

**II  
George**

"_Control of the situation  
fell through my fingers  
I heard her say:  
"You can't keep living as if you're dying"  
well, I'm dying…"  
_

The familiar smell of gunpowder and his mother's chocolate-chip biscuits still lingered in the room… it always had and probably always would. It was a distinctive smell, one not altogether unpleasant, but one that, at the moment, assaulted his senses and tried to force out of him, the monster of fury and utmost grief that had been raging inside his chest for the better part of two weeks.

Disbelief had long since disappeared, it had never been a character trait of his to not believe something if the facts were presented to him, and there was never a firmer fact than the body of Fred himself, lying sprawled across the stone floor of Hogwarts where they had found him, the ghost of a smile still upon his face.

That isn't to say though, that believing his brother was gone made it any easier. On the contrary, he felt it made it all the more harder – its always easier to grieve something that might not have truly left than it is to grieve somebody you now know is six feet below the earth in a solid wooden casket. That solid, irrefutable proof instantly rids you of any small, lingering piece of hope you had left; crushes it like a cockroach underneath your foot.

From his place, propped up against the headboard of his bed, George surveyed the cruelly familiar room with dulled, blue eyes that had taken on a hunted-look. The comfortable mess of the bedroom, with its precarious stacks of boxes, stained carpet and photograph-plastered walls had once made him feel instantly at home, but now the place felt as alien to him as Hogwarts once had at his tender age of eleven. More so even, because then he'd had Fred with him… and now, now he was alone.

He felt a little restless, as if he should get up and do something, and for one absurd moment, considered the possibility of visiting someone, maybe Alicia or Katie, but then dismissed the idea as soon as it came.

Alicia was having enough trouble trying to come to grips with the death of her father and aunt without the added baggage of a visit from him, a reminder of another death she'd not had time to grieve… and Katie? Well, from the scraps of information Ginny brought up to him every day when she came to visit him, she was doing almost as badly as he was, and that was the last thing he needed.

Visiting Angelina was out of the question: she'd been engaged to Fred for crying out loud, a fact George had only been told as they'd sprinted separate ways into the arena that was the Last Battle…

'_Hey, you know how I was going to ask Ange to marry me? She said "yes"! Ah shit, better help Percy out, stupid git; I'll see you in a minute, bro!'_

"I'll see you in a minute, bro"… they had been the last words his brother had ever said to him, and fitting and surprisingly normal they were too.

No "I love you"s like the ones Tonks and Lupin had apparently yelled at each other being struck down simultaneously by a pair of Death Eaters… and no "watch out!"s like the ones Parvati and Padma Patil had screamed at each other before Padma was mauled to death by Fenrir Greyback… just "I'll see you in a minute, bro".

He was still pondering this when the bedroom door was inched open slowly and Ginny walked in, her long red hair swinging behind her as she padded softly across the carpeted floor and curled up beside him on the bed, resting her head on his shoulder.

'Hey George.'

His only response was to move over slightly so she had more room, and she took this as a greeting and rubbed his forearm affectionately. With a slight yawn, she stretched her lithe legs out gracefully before slumping back against the headboard.

'Mum's going out of her mind trying to get ready for tomorrow,' she informed him with a smirk that only widened as the sounds of Ron and Hermione bidding each other good night in a rather physical fashion crept in from outside the door.

'Glad to see he's not being such a git about her any more,' George muttered quietly and she giggled.

'Yeah, they've definitely grown out of that stage, I think,' she said lightly, before a more serious look swept over her delicate features, 'Katie's grandma came over to visit today, to RSVP for the party tomorrow night.'

When he didn't respond to this, she kept going, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

'Apparently she still hasn't come out of her room yet… Oliver's been visiting her every day but he can't get her to come out for longer than it takes her to have a shower and all that.'

He grunted, but said nothing.

'Alicia's mother also dropped in,' she added, in a definitely awkward fashion now, 'she said to tell you that Alicia sends her love but doesn't feel up to coming to the party.'

He jerked his head slightly in what could've been a nod.

'Angelina's parents owled back and said the whole family can come,' she said, a little cheerier, 'so that should be good, you can see someone from the old crowd.'

'Has it ever occurred to you,' he said softly, unconsciously reaching up to touch the scarred hole where his ear had once been, 'that maybe I don't want to see anyone from the "old crowd"?'

She hesitated.  
'I just – George, this isn't healthy… you've been in here for two weeks.'

'Have you ever lost a twin?'

'No, but I –'

'Then don't lecture me.'

She stopped and stared at him for a moment, obviously struggling inwardly before composing herself. Getting up off the bed, she looked down at him with a stern glance that wouldn't have looked out of place on their mother's face.

'You can't keep living as if you're dying, George.'

'I _am_ dying...'

Her breath caught in her throat and she threw him a look so broken and hurt that it pained him to look at her, and then she let out a small sob and walked quickly out of the room, the sounds of her footsteps stopping suddenly as she began to cry loudly into what George knew would be Harry's chest.

He slid down under the covers and drew them up over his head so he didn't have to hear her tears. It was too much. What did they expect from him? To be his usual cheery self? Merlin, it wasn't as if his twin brother had died two weeks ago or anything.

_Crack!_

Sighing loudly, George threw back the covers.  
'How many times do I need to tell you people that I would like to be alone!?'

Startled by the sheer volume of his bellowing, none other than Oliver Wood stepped backwards away from the bed, a panicked expression on his face that George suddenly realised had nothing to do with him.

'What do you want, Wood?' he asked harshly, picking his bedcovers up off the floor.

'George, I'm really sorry,' Oliver panted, looking stricken now, 'I didn't mean – its just I always – Fred – it – Katie's gone missing.'

Pausing in the irritable smoothing out of his quilt, George turned.  
'What d'you mean "gone missing"?'

'I mean,' replied Oliver, 'that I went to visit her about an hour ago and she was there but got really upset, so I went to go get her some chocolate and when I came back, she was gone.'

Sitting down on the bed, George stared at him.  
'And you have no idea where she is?'

'No,' said Oliver, starting to pace about the room, 'I just – I didn't even mean to come here, it was just that I panicked and ended up here… and Fred -'

He stopped, looking guiltily at the younger man.

'Fred always knew where she'd be,' finished George with a sigh, getting to his feet again and snatching his wand up from his bedside table, 'I think I know where she is, I'll go and get her.'

'Are you sure?' Oliver asked, his teeth chattering he was so anxious.

'Yes, Oliver,' sighed George, 'I'm sure. I'll be back soon.'

And he apparated, Oliver's worried face all he could see until with a crack and muffled crash, he landed in a patch of dried-out reeds on the side of a dirt track.

Clambering to his feet, he frowned as a strange sound met his ears and he quickly hurried forwards as he saw Katie, a strangled mix of sobbing and screaming emitting from her throat. She seemed to have tripped over a tree root that had risen through the compacted earth and was now lying sprawled awkwardly in the dust, crying and shrieking painfully.

Crouching down beside her, he rolled her over so she wasn't face down in the earth and began to wipe away the dust that was stuck to the tear stains on her cheeks and nose. He nodded encouragingly as her screaming died down, but as soon as her eyes flicked open he felt his stomach jolt: the look of confused wonder in her gaze scared him.

She thought he was Fred.

Even before she murmured the name tenderly, he knew it, but it didn't hurt any less when she did.

'Fred?'

Shuddering, he lurched backwards from his crouching position and fell onto his back, his entire face contorting with agony as the pain ripped through him. He could hear her gasp as she realised her mistake but it only made the agony worse – her pity was the last thing he wanted. It was all he could do to keep from crying out as his emotions threatened to burst out of him, emotions he had tried so hard to contain.

Inching open his eyes, he dared to look at her but felt his stomach lurch again when he did. To see her misery so clearly painted on her face, a mirror image of what he was sure his own face looked like, was too much to bear. He hastily closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, trying to calm himself.

Somewhat successful in this endeavour, he got to his feet and offered her a hand up, feeling slightly bad about being so rough as he did. She took his hand and pulled herself to her feet but didn't let go either. It felt strange, a mixture of pain and pleasure, to hold a girl's hand again, the deceptive warmth spread through his palm and up his arm as though it was a type of drug coursing through his veins.

He looked down at her, trying to keep his expression blank.  
'I came to find you, Oliver's beside himself… I knew you'd be out here– Fr- _he_ used to come running with you all the time.'

She looked horribly appalled with herself as she replied, as if she'd like to take her single, stupid question – "Fred?" – and beat herself with it until she learnt from her mistake.

'George? I'm so sorry, I –'

Feeling bad that she'd been reduced to tears, but unable to stop himself, he interrupted her. 'You didn't notice my lack of ear and thought I was him.'

She flinched and his conscience niggled a little as he drew his wand from his pocket. 'You're not the only one who's been doing it, lets go.'

Katie nodded but said nothing, instead wrapping her arms around him so tightly it hurt, as if it were a hug she was trying to forcefully bestow upon him. Frowning slightly, he raised his wand, spun on the spot dragging her with him and they appeared in his bedroom with a loud crack.

The same familiar smell of gunpowder and biscuits assaulted his senses and he quickly moved away from her, determined to hold himself together. He watched curiously as she seemed to drink in the sight and smell of the room, as if by doing so, somehow Fred would come back to her.

This only made him feel worse, so he walked over to the door and held it open in a not-so subtle invitation for her to leave.

'I didn't think you'd want to appear amidst a crowd of people, you'd better go and find Oliver.'

She looked slightly hurt but contained it, instead hugging him quickly and walking out the door. He'd just flopped down onto his bed and begun to kick off his shoes when she turned in the doorway.

'I- thanks George… can I come back, later on?'

'If you want,' he replied, keen for her to leave so he could stop the painful act of communicating.

She smiled briefly at him, seemingly a little happier, and closed the door quietly behind her as she left.

George lay back down his bed, sighing loudly, and rolled his eyes as the sounds of Oliver attacking her for pulling a disappearing act on him drifted into the room. Reaching over to his bedside table, he picked up the photograph that had been lying face down on the small wooden cabinet and perused it with reckless abandon.

It was a photo that had been taken the summer before of their group or "old crowd", as Ginny had called it: he and Fred in their Wizarding Wheezes' robes, Katie in her graduating ones, and Angelina, Alicia and Oliver in muggle clothes.

His and Fred's forms in miniature had an arm thrown around the other's neck and were grinning insanely like they always did for photos, their eyes alight with content and happiness.

Groaning, George tossed the metal photograph frame aside, feeling slightly better when it collided with the frame of the other bed with a satisfying clang.

'Stupid fucking git.'

* * *


	3. Emergency

**III  
'Emergency'**

"_Your addiction is okay,  
'cause it's medically approved,  
and the night has expired.  
Lay me down to sleep.  
But one more thing, can you say 'addiction'?  
Well, I can admit my guilt.  
Emergency. Oh, emergency,  
it's whispered at night."_

As far as post-war New Years Eve parties went, the Weasleys' one was actually okay, at least in Katie's own humble opinion. Not that she was enjoying it all that much though; there were too many happy people, laughing and smiling and kissing, like hundreds of wizards and witches, many of them once a part of their number, hadn't been murdered since the last New Years Eve.

She supposed that, like her, they were all trying to find closure, and so she resigned herself to half-heartedly join in on the proceedings, if only so that one of them could find the closure they needed and could stop feeling the way she did. It was unlikely though, she thought, as she watched Angelina miserably rearrange her potatoes so that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't berate her for not eating. Sometimes the pain wasn't so quick to go away.

In fact, as she looked around, she realised that there wasn't nearly as much happiness as she'd first thought there was… Percy was huddled in a corner arm chair clutching a bottle of wine as if he thought it would dull the edge of his loss; Ginny and Harry were sitting out on the lawn talking quietly, the latter of which seemed to be trying to comfort his girlfriend; Ron and Hermione, though dancing, were not looking enthusiastic in the slightest; and Andromeda Tonks sat silently in the corner nursing baby Teddy Lupin, tears coursing down her cheeks.

'I'm going to go and find George,' she whispered quietly in Oliver's ear, and detaching his arm from around her waist, quietly slipped out of the dining room.

Padding up the rickety wooden staircase, she walked briskly down the corridor to the last room on the left and gingerly opened the door, waiting for George's harsh reprimand for his most recent unwelcome visitor.

It didn't come.

Slipping around the door and then closing it behind her, she felt her face split into a tender smile as she spotted the ginger-haired boy fast asleep in his bed. He was awkwardly positioned, as if he'd drifted off sitting up and then had gradually sunk lower until the top half of his body was sort of in a twisted lying pose.

Tip-toeing over to the bed, she sat down beside his unorthodoxly dozing body and gently began to rearrange his limbs and spine so he wouldn't be in complete and utter agony when he awoke. It was only after she'd done this that she realised how peaceful he looked… it was as though The Last Battle had never happened and he would wake with Fred in the next bed, snoring nasally, like she knew he did - _had_.

Reaching out, she gently brushed a stray lock of red hair from his face, before lowering her body down beside his and curling up in the limited amount of space his lanky frame had not taken up.

It was strange, lying down beside George… it wasn't like curling up in Oliver's embrace, his large, warm body enveloping hers easily, and it certainly wasn't like sharing a bed with Fred, whose lanky body, so like his twin's, now seemed, in retrospect, completely different. George's was bony in places Fred's never had been, his knees and chin were sharp and jutted into her forehead and shins, and neither of his long arms were draped over her hips like Fred's right one had always done, warding off any impending nightmares or hours of wide-eyed insomnia.

But, somehow, in the midst of all these differences, it was strangely comforting.

Heaving a sigh, she tossed her head of long, chestnut waves slightly before letting her eyelids droop and before she could allow another troubled thought of Fred cross her mind, she was drifting off into a light doze, her small body tucked into the recesses of George's lanky one.

-x-x-x-

It was the uncomfortably stringy, strangely unnerving feeling of having hair caught between one's teeth that woke George from his slumber.

Grimacing, he lay still for a moment, his ginger lashes fluttering on his freckled cheeks until, reluctantly, they opened, and he sat bolt upright, spluttering, one hand reaching up into his mouth to fish out of it, several long chestnut strands that definitely did not belong to him.

He looked at them, frowning for a moment before the softest of snores reached his remaining ear, and he looked down to see Katie of all people, lying curled up beside where his sleeping form had once lain; her facial expression peaceful as she gently dozed on. He felt something within him constrict as he watched her sleep, a quiet envy of being that carefree while he, himself, was still tormented, even within seconds of waking up.

For one wild second he considered waking her, anything to take from her what he wanted more than anything in the world – ignorance. Not that he thought she was ignorant, but she _looked_ ignorant and untouched by all that had happened to them as she lay there, her wild chestnut hair strewn about her face. But the abrupt, sinister desire quickly vanished, instead filled by a rush of friendly affection for her as he gently got up from the bed, pulled the covers over her and sat down in the armchair in the middle of the room, from which he watched her silently.

Several minutes later, she twitched in her sleep, and as if panicking that her body had not made contact with his, she woke up suddenly, wild-eyed as she cast around, looking for him. Her gaze finally drifting over to where he sat unmoving in the armchair, she began to breathe more steadily, though a flush of colour rose in her cheeks as she realised he knew what she'd done.

'Oh George, I'm sorry, I just –' she started, but was interrupted.

'It's all right,' he said quietly, 'I don't mind.'

She looked embarrassed but slightly relieved as she shifted her body so that it was leaning against the headboard.

'Get sick of the party, then?' he asked dully, reaching over the side of the armchair and picking up a fake wand, which he began to fiddle with listlessly.

'Yeah, kind of,' she replied, looking quite awkward again, 'but I actually came to see you.'

'You came upstairs to sleep in my bed?' he said, raising one ginger eyebrow as she flushed slightly.

'No! No, just… just to see how you were.'

Ah, there it was, thought George as he sat there looking at her, one eyebrow still arched; there it was… she too, was in on the ongoing "save George" project. Well, he wasn't having a bar of it.

'I'm fine thank you,' he said coldly, getting to his feet and moving towards the door again.

'I'm not leaving,' she whispered so softly he thought he'd almost imagined her saying it, 'you can - you can be horrible and act like you don't want me here, but I'm not leaving, George. You're the only person that understands what I'm going through, and try as you might not to, eventually you'll realise I know what you're going through too.'

'Have you ever lost a twin?' he asked indignantly, forcibly reminded of yesterday when he'd sent Ginny to tears.

'No,' she said evenly, 'but that isn't going to work on me: I'm not Ginny.'

He faltered, staring at her.  
'How d'you -?'

'I was talking to her earlier and she told me what you said,' Katie replied, 'I don't blame you for it, I would've said the same thing were I in your position, but she was only trying to help George… they're all only trying to help.'

'Says you, who took off on Oliver today and nearly gave him a heart attack,' he threw back at her, slightly ashamed but trying to hide it.

'Yes,' she said, continuing on bravely although she looked as if she was going to fall to pieces any minute, 'but I've realised now that they're only trying to help… that Oliver and Ginny and your mother and my grandmother – they're all only trying to help.'

'Help with what!?' George burst out, throwing his arms up into the air, 'I – am – _fine_!'

'No you're not!' she cried, tossing the covers away and getting to her feet, '_you_ are still feeling guilty, aren't you?'

'Well, _you_ are addicted to your own misery!' he retorted loudly, leering down at her as she stomped up to him, in a completely un-George-like way.

They stood there, glaring at each other for what seemed like hours, before Katie broke the tense silence first by bursting into tears. As she looked up at him through streaming eyes, she flashed him a look so like the one Ginny had sported on her face yesterday that it made him feel nauseous, before proceeding to march over to the door, wrench it open and disappeared behind it with a quaking slam.

It took several seconds for him to register what had happened before he snapped back to reality with a grounding jolt and hurried out of the room, following the sounds of her sobbing as she stumbled down the stairs, through the house full of guests and then burst outside into the bitterly cold evening, where she ran through the decorated backyard and scrambled over the fence.

Weaving between tables and dancing people, not stopping to answer the bewildered questions people were calling out to him, he sprinted down to the fence, vaulted over it in one clean leap and chased Katie's dark form as it began to fade into the shadows.

'Katie, wait!'

Turning around, she slowed to a stop, waiting for him to catch up with her, which he did in due time, wheezing and spluttering in the icy chill of the wind as it swept past them, tossing her chestnut hair around her face.

'Not as fit as you used to be, eh?' she remarked with a watery smile.

He shook his head, unable to talk, before flopping down into the wet grass of the hill with a heaving sigh. She followed his example, allowing her body to crumple backwards and hit the sopping grass with a squelchy thud.

'I miss Fred,' she said after several minutes of silence, startling George out of his reverie.

'So do I,' he replied softly, gazing up at the stars as they winked overhead.

'I don't like feeling like this,' she whispered, turning her head to look at him, 'but I think somewhere something inside me thinks that if I keep on like this that he'll come back just so I won't have to live the rest of my life this way.'

'Sometimes, just before I start trying to sleep, I think about what would've happened if it had been me instead,' he said hoarsely, fighting back the tears, 'would people be as upset? And then sometimes I feel angry at him, like I used to when he was still here, because everyone always liked him more… I was quieter, less funny…'

'You don't really think that, do you George?' Katie asked, horrified, as she looked at him.

'Sometimes I do.'

'I never,' she started, unsure of what to say, 'I never meant for it to be that way… Fred was just there, you know? Kind of like Alicia is for you – he knew exactly what was wrong when I was upset, knew the best way to help me go to sleep… and although I love Oliver with every part of me, Fred was my special friend… nothing more, nothing less.'

'I understand,' he said quietly, wiping away a stray tear that Katie had enough tact to pretend not to notice, 'although Alicia's still here, she's not exactly helping me out at the moment.'

'She'll be able to in time… she has a lot to deal with right now, as well.'

'Yeah…'

There was another silence, in which they both lay there, gazing up at the stars, before Katie broke it once again.

'Have you been sleeping at night?'

'No,' he replied with a heavy sigh, 'I haven't been able to since – since it happened.'

'Me neither,' she said, 'I mean, I've been able to sleep for little bits at a time, but never a full night through.'

'Exactly,' he said, 'that's exactly how it's been for me.'

Reaching out, she gently took his hand in hers.  
'See? I told you we had more in common than you thought…'

'Katie?' he asked hesitantly.

'George?'

'Do you-do you think that maybe, when I try to go to sleep tonight, you would mind maybe staying with me?'

Turning to look at him, she smiled.  
'I think I'd like that.'

_Emergency. Oh, emergency,  
it's whispered at night…_

* * *

_A/N: lyrics - 'Emergency' by Umbrellas._

_dedicated to anyone who's ever lost someone. __x_


End file.
